you're a planet, i'm a star
by platehate
Summary: The world spins on its axis. Ryousuke is swept off his feet. As for Yukari, well—she's the one who makes him fall, right into her orbit. [ryoukari, canon AU]


**disclaimer:** i do not own GSNK. this is a transformative work made for non-profit entertainment purposes only.

**notes1:** title adapted from the korean lyrics (너란 행성 나란 별) of roy kim's song, egoist.

**notes2:** ya'll the last time i posted a ryoukari story they didn't even have their own character tags! i'm so fucking proud of how far this fandom has come /wipes tear

* * *

He envies that air of detachment she has, even—or especially—around other people.

Cliche as it sounds, he is totally drawn in by the air of mystery surrounding her. Everything he doesn't know about Miyako Yukari, like where she works, who she lives with, and whether she can cook or garden or talk to children with ease, for instance; each of those unknowns is a pocket of empty space, ready and waiting to be coloured in by his imagination.

Before long, his eyes found themselves fixed on her whenever possible. And so things became that way: when he looked at her, he could dream, and that kept him content.

For a while that was the thing Ryousuke loved most about their situation, but he knows it can't last. For one, getting to know the real Miyako-san would be a dream come true—or would it? He's not sure if he wants to leave the safe haven of their non-interactions, because once they speak for real, there will be no going back.

And, to be realistic, her first words to him will probably be something like _stop staring at me all the time, you creep!_

Ryousuke can admit, at least to himself, that he's not brave enough to gamble what might be heartbreak on some measly sense of honesty.

That aside, while Miyako-san's imagined life is his escape from reality, he does occasionally wonder about hers. He wonders what she is thinking of whenever she starts to doodle another tanuki in the margin of her notes; what on earth she associates with those creatures; whether those thoughts are fond or bitter.

He also wonders if he ever crosses her mind. In between lectures, he closes his eyes and daydreams of silly things, like Miyako-san flying into the sunset on a carpet of stuffed tanuki, or seductively bending him over a bed of desert roses, musk heavy in the air; he then promptly slams his head face first into the table for going there.

Everyone stares, but he doesn't care.

It feels like he's losing his mind.

* * *

The men Yukari knows fairly well can be counted on one hand.

There's her editor, Maeno-san. Her former editor, Miyamae-san. And then the boy who lives next door to her and just so happens to be a fellow manga author from her workplace, Nozaki-san. Each of them is eclectic in their own way, she thinks, but also predictable enough once you've managed to pin down the methods that shape their madness.

Seo Ryousuke, while just as unsubtly strange as the others, is another kind of trouble.

Even spacey people can tell when they're being stared at. Yukari wishes that she knew just what Seo-kun is thinking when, for some reason, he always ends up staring at her in class, no matter how far apart they are seated. It's obviously because he likes her, her friends say, when she asks for advice 'on behalf of someone I know'.

Interestingly enough, Nozaki-san also agrees with them on this point.

Well, Yukari thinks; perhaps Seo-kun does like her.

But what is there for her to like about him?

His looks are average: he has a narrow face; small, slightly wide-set eyes; a wiry build; and limbs a little too long to be graceful with his height. And speaking of _looks_, there's the fact that he stares at her. All the time.

The staring doesn't just border on creepy and pathetic; it is obvious, and painfully so. If one wishes to stalk another person constantly with their eyes, Yukari thinks, that's their own prerogative. But, in regards to real life and not manga, the least one could do is be considerate of what others will say. Especially in a situation where the parties involved have mutual friends.

Plus, what she understands of Seo-kun so far is that he jumps to conclusions easily, gets discouraged easily, and prefers to wallow in emotion rather than get to the root of an issue. Of course, every single trait she's just listed is one that she finds personally undesirable.

So that settles it—she cannot like Seo-kun, because he reminds her of what she dislikes most about herself.

Then again, the more she dwells on it, the more she cannot deny that he has been trying to better himself, and she wonders if he could say the same of her. He is always staring, but he is not unaware of the effect his constant gaze has on her. Seo-kun can tell that he makes her uncomfortable, especially after that scare she had when it seemed like he'd discovered her real job and was about to tell the others.

It was a silly deduction, in hindsight (he would never rat her out, she knows that now). But neither of them is good at reading the atmosphere, which means miscommunication aplenty. Still, she knows he hates when he makes her discomfited: the guilty winces he sends her way make that clear enough—rather, the secret is that somehow, she's grown to hate feeling that discomfort when he looks at her too.

So yes, he is trying.

She thinks she wants to try too.

* * *

Tonight she sits in a corner, hesitantly glancing at the alcohol menu.

It's her first time drinking with friends, but the real reason she agreed to tag along weighs heavy on her mind. Maeno-san has informed her that he wants to have a chat tomorrow about something important, and she's been hearing him talk excitedly on the phone about "additions to the family" this past week.

Honestly, it's mildly terrifying; Yukari wonders how hungover she should aim to be for _that_ kind of talk. When he says additions to the family, does that mean another author is going to join her in suffering under Maeno-san's self-obsessed thumbs?

What if they're relegated to tracking his blog statistics or something stupid like that, and she has to watch another bright young dreamer slowly break down? Worse, will the tanuki plague continue to spread? As an infected victim herself, she knows there's probably no hope for a cure, but she'll be damned if she doesn't try to stop it from getting anyone else.

In addition, Maeno-san's narcissistic personality will only be amplified by the increase in attention he will be able to demand. Ah, or perhaps he meant more changes to her latest story idea again—

The sudden wave of moroseness that hits her with this thought is so very debilitating that she cannot move at all.

When Seo-kun hesitantly comes over and offers to buy a round of whatever drinks she wants, Yukari takes a deep, bracing breath and agrees.

As a romantic prospect, he gets minus 50 points for not checking what her limit was before plying her with all the alcohol she wants, and she's ready to write him off as a basis for any future lead characters. Then he has to go and carry her home on his back, and she can feel his arms trembling from where they're locked around her legs the whole way.

He isn't trembling from her _weight_, her mind hazily registers. She knows that tremble, because she's keeping her hands to herself to see if he will too. His back is stupidly warm and not very broad and she wants to bury her face in it like a pillow, preferably for the rest of the night. Minus 20 points for making her think that.

But she'll give him a thousand more for getting her safely home.

* * *

Ryousuke is having a fairly slow day at work when Miyako-san drops by the cafe, with that high school boy in tow, ostensibly to people-watch. Their arrival precedes that of several other Roman High students, including Kashima-kun and that shorter guy she's obsessed with teasing.

Watching as Miyako-san secrets herself and that boy into a corner table, notebooks and digital cameras at the ready, is quite painful. Ryousuke nearly weeps when he sees their shoulders touch, but steels himself to walk over and present the menu with a smile.

This is work, after all.

But he girds his loins and slips her his contact details with the bill—_so cheesy_, he thinks the whole time, cold sweat crawling down the back of his neck— even though he feels dumb about it, he wants to try his best. In a way, watching the same couples that Miyako-san and the high school boy (Nozaki, he knows now, but he doesn't like to think of the name if he can help it) has given him courage.

_All right_, Ryousuke thinks, beating a quick retreat to the back kitchen for some panicked screaming, _here goes nothing!_

Alas, he really does get nothing. When he peeks out of the kitchen to check on Miyako-san's response, he sees Nozaki and Miyako cooing over his scribbled note and sneaks closer. Their heads are bent close and they're whispering furiously as they scribble feverishly in their notebooks, clicking through pictures on their camera at the speed of light.

Ryousuke, desperately eavesdropping behind the nearest pillar to their table, manages to gather that they assume he sent the note over because he overheard them talking about work, and wanted to help them get some inspiration by taking part in some role-playing scenario. _What?_ What work are they talking about, and what role-play? He gets dizzy trying to puzzle some sense out of that.

On the bright side, at least Miyako-san saves his contact details into her mobile phone. So now she has his phone number and email address, but he doesn't have hers, and there's no reason for him to expect a call or message from her.

Though perhaps it wouldn't be too much to hope for. Not to say that he'll be waiting up for it, but really, he doesn't think he'll be able to sleep tonight either way.

* * *

He's coming out of a lecture the morning after when Miyako-san approaches him.

She thanks him for being so willing to help with the _you know what_ and he can only grimace, still confused about the nature of her work and the role-playing. My god, the role-playing. But he tries again and asks to be taken on a coffee date as thanks. You know, if she really is that grateful for his help.

Miyako-san thanks him very politely for asking, and Ryousuke begins to brace himself for rejection. Only she hits him with another curveball, and he's not sure how to even respond.

"Ah, but you know, I'm not the one who needs practice with observing romantic scenes for reference!" She says, leaning in confidentially, near enough for his breath to hit her face. Ryousuke frantically tries to recall whether he brushed his teeth that morning.

"It's Nozaki-san who needs the reference material, so are you okay if he comes along to watch?"

_Only if it's a real date_, he thinks, and then jumps when she repeats his words, tilting her head questioningly. Shit. He wasn't supposed to say that aloud.

"I—Seo-kun, I thought you were just helping us practice," Yukari says, valiantly maintaining her trademark serene smile. She hopes her face is not going red; already she can feel the tips of her ears burning.

"Forgive me."

"No! No, forgive _me_," he cuts in. "I was practicing, actually, for myself. To, um, to ask you out. For real. I like you, Miyako-san."

"I know," she says.

Oh.

"_Oh_," he says, deflating a little.

"Well, could I please get an answer, then?"

Preferably before his shoulders sink into the floor. She's still smiling that fixed, serene smile, and they're still standing outside a lecture theatre in school, and he feels like he's going to fidget to death right there, on the spot. Should he argue his case? That might help with the jitters. And since he's already confessed, he might as well continue.

"I-it's not just because your face is cute," he begins, forcing himself not to second guess anything he says for now and _just keep going_. "I mean, I stare at you so much because looking at you makes me feel like,"—he really struggles to put this feeling into words—"like I can dream. There were so many things I didn't know about you and for so long I didn't think I'd like the real you, but I was wrong. Lately the more I learn about Miyako-san, the more charmed I become."

Ryousuke has to pause for breath here. Miyako-san is still listening. He gulps and forges on.

"A-and so when I look at you now, it's like—like there's things to look forward to in life. Looking at you gives me a strange but comforting feeling. I think I'll always associate that with you, Miyako-san."

"Please," he says, heart fully spent at last, "accept my sincere feelings for you."

Then, of all things, she bursts into tears and runs away.

He sinks down against the wall and stays there until long after the sun sets. Then he slowly makes his way home.

* * *

Miyako Yukari is absent from classes for an entire week after that disastrous incident. On the first day she returns, she chooses a seat across the aisle from him in their morning seminar. Ryousuke forces himself to stare straight ahead no matter what. It is a very long two hours and his neck is begging to be cracked by the end of it, but he feels quite vindicated by his success.

Imagine his surprise when she taps him on the shoulder before he can even stand up to leave.

"Miyako-san," he mumbles, face twisting unhappily. "Welcome back to school. It's nice to see you again."

She bows and pushes a paper-wrapped parcel into his hands. He fumbles and accepts it blindly, still refusing to rest his eyes on her. "What is this?" he asks.

"Um, this is my answer, Seo-kun," Miyako-san says. "I have carefully considered my reply for the past week. I apologise for the delay. Even though it's late, please accept my thanks for expressing your feelings to me."

"Right," he says, standing and shouldering his bag. "You're welcome. I'll be going now."

* * *

Ryousuke stops by the convenience store and buys a couple of beers on the way home. Yuzuki is in the house when he returns, though she only takes one look at his face before disappearing into her room.

He sighs and flops down on the sofa.

Miyako-san's parcel is bugging him. He takes it out of his bag and turns it over in his hands, smoothing tired fingers over the folds of clear tape. It's a bulky thing, about the size of a laptop and just as thick, but the way it bends tells him that her present to him is most likely a stack of paper.

Why on earth would she be giving this as an answer to a confession? Surely Miyako-san didn't need to take a week off school just to write him a novel explaining why she rejected him.

What falls out onto his lap when he slits the wrapping open is a cascade of rough sketches, each sheet of paper covered in varying amounts of pencil, ink, marker and crayon. They're all of the same young man—a character who, on closer inspection, looks a little like him.

Ryousuke sits up, startled, and sifts through the pile.

There's him sitting in class, eyes trained on someone across the room. Him walking down a path that leads to the library. Him leaning against a wall as he waits for a friend, one hand raised for a glance at his watch. Him, playing with a stray cat that wandered into the cafeteria.

And him confessing to someone in a corridor, entire face overspread with a blush as he pours his heart out.

She's turned that last drawing into one of a series of manga panels—his heartbeat quickens as his eyes fly over the pages, drinking in the story. It is simple enough: the boy confesses, and the girl tells him she cannot give an answer right away, but she will call him in a week. Ryousuke trails a hesitant finger over the panels where the girl inputs the boy's contact details into her phone, cheeks tinted pink; head angled low so no one else will see her bashful smile.

Is this Miyako-san's way of saying that she, too, felt a flutter in her heart for him? Was she actually planning to accept his confession? But then why did she burst into tears and run away? Just then, the headache this line of thought induces is interrupted by the ringing of his phone, and he warily reaches for it.

The number on the display screen isn't one that he has saved, but somewhere in the halfhearted swiping he manages to both accidentally answer the call and put it on loudspeaker.

"Hello?" an eerily familiar voice rings out. "May I know if this is Seo Ryousuke-kun speaking?"

"M-m-miyako-san!" he cries, shooting bolt upright. His stupid brain is too busy short-circuiting over the sound of her voice saying 'Ryousuke-kun', so he leaves the call on loudspeaker. Let Yuzuki listen in if she wants, he doesn't care anymore. He clears his throat.

"What can I do for you, Miyako-san?"

"Ah," she says softly. "Have you seen what I drew for you, Seo-kun?"

"Y-yes," he says. "I just did, in fact."

"I'm afraid I spend too much time with work," Miyako-san continues, "so I don't really know how to express myself outside of manga-related things. But did my feelings get through to you?"

_I don't know_, he wants to say. The words stick in his throat.

"I—it's been a week," he says instead. "And…and you called me. Like in the story. Are you going to—I mean, please, tell me your answer now?"

"Yes," she says.

There's a long moment of silence on the line.

"Yes?" he parrots, feeling foolish.

"Yes," Miyako-san says, again. He thinks she might be smiling; he can almost hear it in the way her voice curves around the word. "That is my answer, Seo-kun."

The world spins on its axis. Ryousuke, still lying on the sofa, surrounded by the proofs of her affection, feels like he's been swept off his feet. As for Miyako Yukari, well—she's the one who made him fall, right into her orbit.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he croaks into the phone, voice shaky but warm, "_loveyougoodnight_."

He disconnects the call, dropping himself onto the cushions once more. The emotional buildup of the past week washes out of him like a retreating tide; he falls asleep right there. When Ryousuke wakes, it's to the sight of his parents and sister peering down at him and the papers in his lap—in itself a confession, just like his call history, which Yuzuki opens despite his attempts to wrestle the phone from her; it warms his heart to see the congratulatory glimmer in all their eyes.

.

.

.

_fin._


End file.
